It was my bathrobe, for a time. I wore it lovingly. I loathed to take it off, except to make love or shower, or the dreaded hour when I'd have to go to work, or go home. It was my bathrobe, the pink one. Not the purple one, that was his. I wore the pink one.

There's this happy life. It's her happy life. It's the wrong body. The happy life belonged with my body. It fit me perfectly.

It was mine, for a time. I wore it lovingly.